


Lookin' For

by cestlavieminako



Category: HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: M/M, idiots idiots everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestlavieminako/pseuds/cestlavieminako
Summary: Murayama wondered if Cobra liked flowers.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41
Collections: High and Low Shipping Week





	Lookin' For

**Author's Note:**

> This is for day 1 of High&Low Shipping Week, for the prompt "blood and flowers" and this was the first thing that popped in my head, so I just rolled with it.

Murayama hadn’t even been certain what had possessed him that afternoon.

He’d been walking back to Oya High from the convenience store, a bag hanging carelessly from his fingers as he tilted his head back to get the last few drops of juice out of the can he was drinking from, when his attention had been caught by...something. Even now, he couldn’t recall what it had been. A sound? Movement?

He’d squinted into the distance, eyes slowly moving across an unkempt lot, wondering if someone was preparing to jump him. Man, he just wanted to get back so he could eat his bento in peace.

Then he saw the flowers, and his eyes followed the blooms as they moved, swaying in the gentle breeze that kept the day from being too oppressively hot. The petals were a rather stunning red, and for some reason, they reminded Murayama of that dumb scarf that Cobra always wore. 

He wondered if Cobra liked flowers.

And that was how he found himself picking his way through the overgrown lot, trying to keep from falling and spraining something when his foot slid on a hidden bottle (he assumed; the grass was so thick and overgrown he couldn’t even _see_ his feet). He tied the conbini bag closed and then tied it from one of the belt loops on his jeans, so his hands would be free.

About halfway into the venture and Murayama began to wonder what the hell he’d been thinking. This was more trouble than it was worth, all for some dumb flowers. Weren’t there flowers growing in the field by Oya?

Yeah, but those ones weren’t as nice.

So he continued on his way, grimacing when he stepped on something that released a foul smell. Gross; now he’d have to do _laundry_. Or he could just leave it and use the smelly sneaker to strike terror into the heart of whoever decided to cause a fuss that week.

In the next breath, he immediately decided against that plan. He could barely breathe in without making faces and nearly retching.

Fine. Laundry. Or the hose outside of the school. There was probably soap somewhere, right? Todoroki would probably know. He looked like he did his laundry more than once a month.

Then his foot met empty air, and he found himself tumbling down a small hill he hadn’t even known was there, thanks to the overgrown weeds, and absently hoped his bento wouldn’t get too squished from this.

When he finally landed (sprawled facefirst on the ground, on top of something pokey and unpleasant), it took him a moment before he was able to drag himself up.

And he found himself right in front of those pretty flowers that had been the start of all of this.

Well. He’d come this far; might as well just grab ‘em and be on his way.

Which was a fine idea, but he hadn’t noticed the bee that had been collecting pollen from the flowers, that had been startled by Murayama’s sudden appearance, until it stung him. 

He yelped, snatching his hand back with a string of profanity and threats to the bee’s continued existence (which meant little, since it was already dead, but, well, Murayama had never paid attention in biology).

Man, Cobra better appreciate these damn things, he thought to himself. After making sure that no other bees were lurking within the flower, he reached out and grabbed them, a few breaking off at the stems, while others came out at the root, sending small showers of dirt everywhere.

There. Mission accomplished. Wouldn’t Cobra be surprised, Murayama thought, smiling briefly.

The smile didn’t last long, as getting himself out of the overgrown mess was made more difficult with the flowers clutched in his hand. He nearly slipped on the same bottle, or whatever it was, again. He barely managed to sidestep the stinky item he’d tromped over before, but the stench was overwhelming. He tried to give it a wide berth, but only wound up walking into a patch of bushes that happened to be full of thorns. Not that he noticed them until they started catching on his clothing.

By the time he struggled back onto the roadway, he was a dirty, disheveled mess. The thorns had scraped his hands to hell, and tiny droplets of blood covered the skin. His shoe positively reeked, and for a second, he was tempted to just remove both of them and toss them into the field and walk back barefoot. That wasn’t really practical. And he really liked those sneakers. Plus the pavement was bound to be hotter than hell at this point in the day.

A low snarl interrupted his thoughts, and Murayama looked up to see a dog on the other side of the street, regarding him in what looked to be a pretty distrustful manner.

“Hey, I know I stink, but…” Murayama trailed off as the dog took a step closer, then another, then took off like a shot toward him.

“Oh come _on_!” Murayama hollered, running as fast as he could.

*

Nobody at Itokan was expecting anyone to come bursting through the door that afternoon. And if they had been expecting anyone, it wouldn’t have been Murayama, who looked like he was being chased by the hounds of hell.

“What the hell..?”

“Oh man, what is that _stink_?”

“Geez…what’s going on now? Some shit stirring at Oya? You know what happened the last time something like that happened.”

Murayama ignored all of the voices, marching across the room toward the table where Cobra sat, watching all of the other Sannoh members jumping to their feet in alarm. Probably figuring he was about to throw a punch or something.

So when he slammed the flowers (which were only slightly crumpled and wilting) onto the table’s surface, everyone stopped in their tracks and just stared at him. Including Cobra.

Murayama grinned triumphantly. He’d succeeded in surprising Cobra, that was for sure. “Hope you like ‘em, Cobra-chan. They were a bitch to get to.”

Cobra still looked a bit stunned (or maybe he was getting a good noseful of the stinky sneaker; Murayama wasn’t certain), but he finally stammered, “Thank…you..?”

Murayama turned, and the other Sannoh members quickly moved out of his path as he headed for the door.

Yeah. That had been pretty cool of him.

He opened the door and stepped back out onto the street, feeling rather pleased with himself.

Of course, he’d forgotten about his canine follower, who sat there, waiting patiently for his return.

Everyone in Itokan heard Murayama’s shrieks, slowly fading into the distance, but even so, they were hesitant to see what was going on out there. 

Cobra looked at the flowers once again. “What am I supposed to do with these..?”


End file.
